


Fires Burn Brighter In The Dark

by DirtyLilGreaseMonkey



Category: Emmerdale, robron
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyLilGreaseMonkey/pseuds/DirtyLilGreaseMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron is worried about his meeting the social worker and reverts back to his old coping mechanisms to get him through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fires Burn Brighter In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry!
> 
> WARNING!!! This story contains graphic descriptions of self harm, if you find this subject triggering please do not read!!
> 
> My drunken thoughts of how Aaron coped with meeting the social worker, expansion of 14th Jan episode.

*WARNING*

THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF SELF HARM

 

Aarons world froze at the sound of his new weapon of choice hitting the floor. Blood rushed between his ears as he bent down to retrieve his latest munition, the tension across his shoulders easing slightly as his fingers wrapped around the smooth plastic, the cold metal of the hood burning into his skin, not in the way he needed but it would have to do for now. Luckily enough for him Paddy was too wrapped up in his own life to even bother to say much apart from, 

“Since when did you start smoking again?” completely missing just how uncomfortable Aaron was with the question. 

Aarons eyes flicked up to meet Paddys briefly before he avert his gaze anywhere else, at his phone, down at his trainers and finally back up to Paddys round face. He couldn't lie so choose to say nothing and nod along with Paddy as his grip around his new tool of torture tighten chewing on the inside of his lip to stop any unwanted retaliation at Paddys sudden concern for his health to slip out. Aaron knew the only thing bothering Paddy was how his behaviour would reflect on him and he couldn’t blame him, he knew he was just nervous about the adoption meetings as he bumbled on. 

“Aaron ya gonna be the kids godfather you need to set a good example just tek the day off smoking will ya or quit,” he advised looking sympathetically at Aaron.

“I'd prefer that,” Paddy added walking away. 

Normally Aaron would have hit back at Paddy with some snide remark or maybe a playful punch to his arm but he just didn’t have the energy anymore and as his eyes followed him up the street the small voice he'd been suppressing for so long raised it’s ugly head and screamed,

_‘You should have noticed’_ before he could squash it. 

He managed to keep his face calm however as the voice quietened to its normal hum in the background of his mind. He didn't want Paddy to notice not really he didn’t want to have to go through all that again, not when he knew what he was doing this time although the knife didn't quite take the end off like it used to hence the lighter. The same lighter that he could still feel like a dead weight of in his pocket. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets his right hand clutching around the lighter squeezing until he felt the spark wheel digging into his palm. He plastered on his a neutral if not a little annoyed disguise again, one he's learnt to master over the years as he carried on with his morning. 

*

Back in the relative safety of his room the meeting with the social worker drew closer and he was getting more and more anxious about what he was going to say. The taste of blood in his mouth from his constant gnawing at his bottom lip a clear indication of just how nervous he was about the whole thing. What if he said something stupid and mucked things up for Paddy and Rhona? He'd never be able to forgive himself. As he watched the clock tick by his legs began to bounce up and down and he knew he had to do something to calm the panic that had started to tighten around his chest. What if she asked him about his childhood, that's what social workers did didn't they? Pry into your business? What if his asked about his real Dad? He didn’t think he could handle that in his current state. If he was going to make a good impression for Paddy there was only one thing he could do. Alone in his room he lifted his shirt up exposing the still weeping wound he'd opened up yesterday and knew he couldn't do that again and then he remembered the blissful pain that radiated through in his arm from the flames of the candles on his birthday cake and knew what he had to do. He’d read somewhere once that if something burned your soul it was your duty to be reduced to ashes and that’s why he’d dug out his old lighter. As soon as his hand clutched around the pearl White disposable Lighter the panic eased slightly and for some bizarre yet ironic reason the words for an Eminem song run through his head.

**Just gonna stand there and watch me burn.**

Yes he thought to himself as he ran his thumb over the wheel letting the flint strike the metal creating the spark he so desperately desired. He repeated the action several times before he let the spark ignite bring the small beautiful relief flicking to life. He sighed with relief as he let the flame lick over him, his fingertips dancing over the heat but it wasn’t enough just to feel the heat he wanted the pain that went along with it. With his thumb pressed firmly against the serrated piece of plastic allowing an uninterrupted stream of gas through he drew the flame from his fingers along his palm and up his arm letting the flame warm a path along his skin. 

With his curtains closed blocking out the world his room was dark the flame in his hand the only source of illumination. He watched the shadows dance against the walls as he studied the length of his arm choosing the perfect sight to burn, one he could cover, out of sight of those that claimed to care. He picked his spot, just below his elbow on his left forearm needing his more dominant hand to control the deadly flame. He gaped at inferno as the hairs singed, could smell the burning hair invading his nostrils as he breathed through the pain. He felt the blaze lick his skin, crackling playfully almost gentle at first, he marvelled at the flame flickering almost teasing him as he begged for relief. He held the fire still his thumb aching from the pressure he was placing on the fork waiting for the sweet torture to begin his eyes focused solely on the orange of the precious heat and after an eternity he felt it the spike of pain and felt himself hiss as the flame lept and spat across his forearm like a snake devouring its prey. He sighed as he his mind finally cleared and all that was left was the blinding all-consuming numbness and he could think clearly again. The flickering flame was hungry sweeping across his tender flesh engulfing him, the acrid smell of burning flesh thick in the air as he realised he could hear screaming, it took a moment of lucidity for him to acknowledge the scream was coming from him and he should probably extinguish the flame before it consumed everything in its path. As soon as he let his thumb relax the flame died but the pain remained blazing across his skin. His torturer, the lighter, now a heavy cold weight in his hand fell discarded to the floor. The wound stilled burned as he made his way to the bathroom welcoming the agony as he let the water from the tap pour over his skin. He ignored the hiss that escaped his lips as he tended the now weeping wound. After patting the wound dry, relishing in the sting that radiated up his arm from the contact, he used the first aid supplies he kept hidden under his bed to dress the wound. Knowing he could prolong the wound with the way he dressed it he picked a fabric dressing, one that would stick to the open sore and take a layer of skin off when he removed it. With the wound now bound he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time that day and the prospect of meeting the social worker didn’t seem that scary anymore. He pulled his sleeve down to cover the stark whiteness of the dressing and laid back on his bed running over the things Paddy had gone through with him a few days ago. 

When it was nearly time he made his way gingerly down the stairs clutching his arm to his chest but as he continued to move around the kitchen he got used to the dull ache of the burn and actually took pleasure in it, smiling for the first time in days. When the social worker arrived the nervousness crept back up on him but a little pressure on his arm from folding them across his chest as he answered the endless questions helped calm him, in fact the pain made him feel so good he found himself opening up to Rita about Paddy and his Mam in a way he’d never done before he even laughed at one point something he hadn’t done in a long time. The relief the burn gave him even allowed him to tell her about beating Paddy up which came as surprise to them both but he wanted her to know just had much Paddy meant to him and could mean to some other kid out there. He ended the conversation with the words he’d said to himself so many times they were like his saving grace when he felt lost

“Well I wish he was my dad from the start.”

Little did he know his world was about to be rocked once again by yet another secret he’d be sworn to keep. 


End file.
